Page 22 of Desires of a Duke Collection

Fifty years later

January, 1873

Talia’s hand slipped over the smooth, well-worn pigeon with only minute traces of the gold gilding remaining, the ruby eyes long since surrendered to vanishing in the streets of London. But Aunt Penelope had always had it right. A cane was useful.

She lifted the stick, swatting the butt of her oldest great-grandson running by, who was gleefully terrorizing two of his younger cousins with a toad that had just squirted in his hand.

He stopped and gave her a look, sheepish, his head falling. His brown hair fell in front of his grey eyes as he looked at his toes.

“Edward, you know very well Penny has a fear of toads,” Talia said. “Not to mention this is the drawing room and toads do not belong in the drawing room. Your mother will have a fit if she sees you inside with it. Put that poor thing back in the garden this instant.”

He nodded, his eyes down. “Yes, MiMi.” He was the oldest, but still young enough to take a scold with proper chagrin.

“Off with you, then.” Talia swatted the side of his leg with her cane.

He scampered off, leaving the room, and within moments, Talia could hear the renewed squeals of his cousins from deep in the manor.

Next to her on the settee, Fletch folded his newspaper, looking at her over the spectacles on the edge of his nose. “The boy at least pretended to be contrite, Talia. I daresay he gets credit for that, in the least.”

She chuckled, watching the same mischievous smile she had just seen on Edward appear on her husband’s face. Wrinkles aside, Fletch was still the man she had fallen in love with fifty years ago, the dark flecks in his grey eyes still dancing bright. It was no wonder she loved him a thousand-fold over now.

She sighed, shaking her head as she settled her cane alongside her leg.

“Talia?”

“Yes, Fletch?”

“You were right about the curse.”

She looked to him.

The mischievous smile still played on his lips. She gave him a curt nod. “Thank you. Fifty years, that took you.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to tempt fate.”

He lifted his arm, settling it along her shoulders as he pulled her into him. Their muscles had weakened, their hair had whitened, their voices had gone scratchy with time. But this. For all the change—this was still her most favorite place in the world.

She nuzzled her cheek onto his chest, into the well-worn curve that still fit her head perfectly. “Let it never be said I did not marry a smart man.”

His kissed the top of her head. “And I, a smart woman.”

***

What’s next? Of course it’s Lord Reggard’s story! Oath, Lords of Action is available now.

August Sunrise

Merry Farmer